Jack Edwards

Gator 3

I woke to a soft kiss on my lips and opened my eyes to the face of a twelve-year-old boy with pale-gray eyes, feathery brown hair and a wide-mouth smile, turned up at the corners. “Your breath in the morning isn’t so bad,” Gator said.

He lay draped on my left side, my arm behind his back, and I patted his bottom, thinking how good his naked body felt resting on mine. Usually, the morning after a night of sex with a girl, I was only too glad to get away.

Gator nodded back toward the other tents. “Guys are getting up,” he said.

“You okay, Gator?”

His answer was a hug; a strong hug. I returned it, patting his bottom. “Dude, you’re gonna get us all boned up again and I gotta go take a piss.”

He held me tighter, as if not to let me go, so I tickled him. We rolled, me tickling and wrestling him until I finally pushed up and looked for my clothes.

“Definitely need a new shirt,” I murmured, looking at the dried cum stains on the one I wore the day before.

The morning quickly grew warm, and I didn’t need a shirt at all. Patrick took the troop on a hike around the lake and into the woods, working on a couple of merit badges. When I took my shirt off and tucked it into the back of my shorts, Gator and a dozen other boys did the same.

I found myself looking at their bare torsos. I hadn’t looked at boys since I was one of them… well, except the kind of looking any guy does, admiring a good body or potentially good one in a younger dude. At least I think all guys do that.

When we paused at a large granite boulder about mid morning, Gator climbed it along with most of the other boys. Patrick came up beside me. “I knew you’d be good for him,” he said, watching Gator with the other boys. “Amazing how fast you did it, though.” Patrick gave me a sidelong glance.

I shrugged, keeping my eyes on Gator.

“The kid adores you,” Patrick observed. “It’s like night and day from yesterday afternoon to this morning.” He said it with obvious speculation in his voice.

“Sorta like the way I used to adore you, huh?” I asked, without glancing at him.

“Oh, geez,” Patrick murmured under his breath. “Please don’t tell me you did with him what we used to do.”

I did glance at him then, with a frown. I resented it; him, of all people, being critical of me.

“Geez, Jamie,” he murmured. “You’re straight. What the hell are you doing? You can go to prison for something like that. You don’t know that kid. Even if Gator does adore you now, what about ten years from now, or twenty? What if he goes to the police then? What if he goes to them next week?”

Gator stood at the top of the boulder like a proud conqueror and waved at me, grinning hugely.

“You set this up, Pat,” I told him while returning Gator’s wave. “I’m not about to push Gator away now.”

Patrick frowned at me. “Like I did you, you mean?”

I quickly shook my head. “I didn’t say that. I didn’t mean it.” I gave him a sad smile. “Look, if Gator feels about me the least bit like I felt about you at that age, he’d never even think about busting me.”

Patrick frowned, skeptically.

I put my hand on his shoulder and gave it a squeeze. “He does, Pat. He does feel about me that way, and he needs me to be his friend right now.”

Patrick scowled. “Just be careful, Jamie. I don’t want to see anything bad happen to you.”

“I don’t either,” I assured him. “I don’t either.”

Gator came down off the rock, laughing and walking beside my nephews. The three seemed to be hitting it off. I glanced at Patrick. He was watching them too, with a slight frown. He glanced at me. “I told them to be friendly with Jamie… Gator,” Patrick said. “I told them he needed a friend.”

“He does, Patrick. Don’t call them off.”

Patrick looked at them again, and Gator between the younger boys, looking happy. Patrick glanced at me. “Keep an eye on them, Jamie.”

The day had turned hot by the time we came back to the beach, opposite to our campground. The water was inviting. I didn’t want to go all the way back to the tent to put on a swimsuit when what I really wanted was to do was jump in to cool off. I remembered what Patrick said about not skinny-dipping because some mom complained, but that seemed just crazy to me. The scouts didn’t need to swim naked if Patrick didn’t want them, too, but I wanted to swim now.

“Be back later,” I called out, pulling off my shoes. The others stopped and watched as I pulled off my shorts and tossed them along with my shirt to one side, and took off for the water, splashing in.

Patrick didn’t stand a chance. He and the other scoutmaster tried telling them to stop, but all but a handful of the boys had their clothes off and were into the water in seconds, including Patrick’s own boys. Seconds after that, naked boys were climbing all over me.

I tossed them over the water, at least the smaller ones. The bigger ones, I shook off as best as I could. Patrick yelled something from the bank. I paused, trying to hear him, with Gator clinging to my back and naked boys hanging on both arms.

“You’re on your own; they’re all yours,” Patrick called out, waving me off in frustration. “We’ll get lunch ready.” He and the other scout master headed on toward the camp with the couple of boys who didn’t want to skinny dip.

The war resumed and became a splashing contest as well. Jeffy, my youngest nephew, the six-year-old, clung on to my side like human glue. I peeled him off and tried tossing him out over the water but he clung to my arm, laughing and it took a bit to shake him off. For a few seconds, I had him up over the water and everyone could see he had a boner.

“Jeffy’s got a stiffy,” one of the boys called out, jeering.

“Hey,” I barked in a stern, deep voice. “Don’t tease Jeffy. Boners are cool. Guys get boners all the time; you all do. Jeffy’s not the only kid to get a stiffy skinny dipping. He’s probably not the only guy that has one right now. Dicks just get hard sometime, okay?”

The boys, many breathing hard from our splash war, nodded, looking at me and stealing glances at each other.

“And don’t go home and tattle to your mom because you went skinny dipping or that any guys got boners,” I continued. “Moms are the last people to tell about guy stuff like that. They’ll get Patrick in trouble again and he doesn’t deserve that. He puts a lot of his time in for you guys. If you gotta tell somebody, tell your dad. He’ll know that skinny dipping’s cool and he’ll tell you what I did about boners.”

Gator was still clinging to my back and one of the boys pointed at him. “I bet Gator’s got a boner.”

“So what if he does?” I challenged.

“But I don’t,” Gator said. He planted his knees above my butt and lifted his own bottom. “See!”

“Wouldn’t matter if he did,” I said. By then, Jeffy had swum back to me and clung to my side. Any of them could see that Jeffy had to be pressing his boner to the side of my waist. “We’re just farting around,” I told them. With that, I peeled a giggling Jeffy off my side and tossed him out over the water again; his delighted squeal muffled at the end by his plunge into the water.

They all closed on me once more. “Guys,” I complained, “you’re wearing me out.”

Jeffy was quick, latching back onto me almost before any of them. One of the eleven-year-olds wrapped himself around my other leg. I could feel his stiffy, and it dawned on me that I’d basically said it was okay to climb on me with one. I quit fighting though and drifted a little deeper with three of them hanging on. “Give me a second to rest guys,” I said. And then I felt Gator press me more closely from behind so that I had three boy’s boners against me. I tried to not think about that.

The splash fighting continued between several of the boys, but I noticed two slip off to one side and it looked like they reached between each other’s legs. Oh, shit! I thought to myself. Patrick’s gonna kill me for turning his troop gay.

One of the boys who refused to skinny dip came running from the campsite. “Mister Kennedy says lunch is ready!” he called out.

“Okay, guys,” I said, waving them out of the water. At least a third of them came up from the water with stiffies or dicks that had obviously been stiff.

“We can have a circle jerk,” I overheard one of the boys whisper to another. “My older brother told me about those.” I looked over. It was the two boys who had been feeling each other up under the water. I pretended that I hadn’t heard them.

“Sorry,” I told Patrick as everyone sat down to eat. “I didn’t mean to lead a skinny-dip rebellion.”

“You had to know they’d do what you did,” he told me, sternly. Then he leaned closer and spoke more quietly. “We’re cool, though. The kid who complained to his mom before about us skinny dipping was one of the kids that came back with me – David, the tall, blond boy. We had a talk; he’s not gonna complain to his mom since we didn’t make him skinny dip with the others.”

I leaned close in turn. “Small dick?” I asked with a grin.

Patrick smiled and shook his head. “Just the opposite. And last time, he couldn’t get out of the water for a while because of a boner.”

“Poor kid,” I said, suppressing a grin.

That afternoon, Gator, Jeffy, and Daniel, my eight-year-old nephew, became my shadows, though they also hung together without me. Other boys seemed more accepting of Gator as well, and I was glad to see it.

I noticed David, the tall, blond, boner-springer – I couldn’t help calling him that in my mind – hanging with the two boys who had talked about circle jerking earlier. I wondered if they told him what happened with boners and skinny dipping that morning because David actually asked if we could all go skinny dipping again that afternoon. But Patrick and the other scoutmaster had other plans, and the boys didn’t make it back into the water.

Evening came, and Patrick, without checking with me first, offered to let Gator tent with Jeffy and Daniel. Gator moved closer to me and said, “Uh-uh,” without even hesitating.

It got cold quickly after dark. Gator didn’t have a good jacket, so I pulled him into mine beside me as we sat around the campfire. I caught Patrick watching us, just before Jeffy jumped into my lap and tried to get inside my jacket as well.

Because it was cold, Patrick called it a night for all of us early. Boys retired to their tents and zipped up. Gator and I took a last piss and brushed teeth together again. We stepped into the tent, and as soon as I’d zipped up, Gator flung himself at me. I went down laughing and we rolled with him on top of me.

“You have a good day, sport?” I asked

“Hell yes!” he said, grinning. Then he kissed me, long, hard, and with tongue.

“Tonight,” I told him, “we zip the sleeping bag up and both sleep inside it with the blanket doubled over us on top.”

“Awesome,” Gator answered. A shiver ran through his body.

“Here, dude, let’s get you into the sleeping bag,” I told him.

He rolled off me and I quickly zipped up the bag and arranged the blanket over it while Gator hugged himself, watching. “We gonna get naked again?” he asked when I shucked my jacket and pulled off my shirt.

“Yeah, it’ll be plenty warm inside the bedroll,” I told him. “Our bodies will keep each other warm. Let me get in there first and I’ll warm it up for you while you undress.” I undressed quickly, shucking my shoes and pants. The sleeping bag was cold when I climbed in, but that would change.

“Ready for you, dude,” I said.

Gator quickly stripped and climbed in beside me. His smaller, boney body was chilled. I pulled him into my arms to warm him and chafed my legs against the soft skin of his. Neither of us was hard, but that changed quickly as we snuggled together.

The bedroll began to feel warm and we relaxed. Gator, whose face had been pressed to my chest, leaned back to look at me with a smile. He scooted up inside the sleeping bag and laid his open hand on the side of my face. His eyes were happy and expressive. Never in my life had I felt so loved. I grinned and kissed him, and the kiss grew as warm as the sleeping bag.

Gator had the big hands of a twelve-year-old and they explored my neck and shoulders. Mine explored his back and bottom. Our legs were entwined and our hips rocked slowly forward and back, pressing boners to hips.

The sounds of kissing filled our tent, but I didn’t worry about anyone overhearing. We were away from the others and it was too cold for guys to be out running around much. Gator liked kissing, and there’s not much more fun than kissing with a twelve-year-old boy who likes kissing.

His hips began to work harder, bumping his stiffy more firmly against my hipbone. “Wanna try something different?” I asked.


“You know what a sixty-nine is?”

“I think so.”

“It’s when we suck each other’s dick at the same time. You turn one way and I turn another.”

Gator looked skeptical. “There isn’t enough room in the sleeping bag.”

“No,” I agreed. “But I’ll lie on my back and stick my legs out the top here so that you don’t have to. We can put the blanket over my legs and then you get on top of me inside the sleeping back. You straddle my head and stick your stiffy down into my mouth, and at this end, you suck on me like you did last night… like you’re licking an ice cream cone.”

“You liked that?” Gator asked happily.

“No shit, I liked that.”

Gator giggled. “Okay.”

I climbed completely out of the sleeping bag and then dove in head-first. We scrambled around until I was under him with my face between his legs. Gator pulled the blanket off the sleeping bag and threw it over my legs. The air was cool on my privates, especially when Gator started to get them wet, but it was good; it was really good. His incredibly soft scrotum rested on my upper lip. His boner, pumped into my throat. I could still smell lake water on him, but also an entire afternoon of play and activity between his legs. I’d forgotten how a boy smells there, just as he’s reaching puberty. Trapped inside the bedroll, his scent was heady.

I explored his butt and the backs of his legs with my hands. His skin there was amazingly soft and smooth, and yet, Gator had muscles. He was skinny, but he had muscles. And yet, it was his wonderful scent that I remember most vividly, all trapped inside that sleeping bag. And I remember his hands and the enthusiasm of his mouth. It was like he was born for sixty-nining, or maybe, by doing what he was doing, he was showing me how he felt about me.

He came first, and I savored the watery taste of his cum. He kept working on me and managed to swallow almost all of my cum. We lay there for a while, just holding and nuzzling each other. I remembered how amazing Patrick’s man-sized genitals were to me when I was ten. I wondered how mine looked to Gator as he rubbed his face in them and lifted my scrotum on his fingertips.

My legs were getting cold, though, so we switched again with me crawling in beside Gator. I held him and we talked. He wanted to know everything about me, and he wanted to tell me things about himself. He mainly wanted to tell me about the things he was into, but I was also interested in his home life.

Gator was an only child. He had no idea where his dad was. His mom had a boyfriend who Gator didn’t get along with. I always try to take what a kid says about his home life with a grain of salt. In Gator’s case, I had the impression he understated conditions at home. He was a smart kid, so when he said he had problems with grades in school, I wondered if it was because of how things were at home.

“I can help you,” I told him. “I can help you with your school work. I’m not like a genius or anything, but I did okay in school, and I read all the time. I read a lot. I just didn’t have any interest in going to college, you know?”

Gator nodded against my chest.

“But you could come over sometime and I could help you,” I told him.

Our dicks never got fully soft and we began to rock against each other. I rolled Gator to his back and had him open his legs to me like I had to him the night before. We rubbed stiffies while I lay on him, supporting myself on my elbows, and we talked and kissed.

Before long, Gator began pumping a little harder. “I like it,” he whispered, “the way your balls sorta lay all over mine. That feels awesome.”

“I like the whole, belly to belly thing,” I told him. “Grab hold of my butt and pull our crotches together real tight as we grind.”

“Will that feel good to you?” he asked. “It felt good when you did that to me.”

“Yeah. Pull my butt cheeks apart. That feels good.”

We got quiet and simply rocked. The soft, rhythmic rustling of our bedding filling the silence of the tent until Gator started to whimper and I pumped hard and fast to bring him off; and brought myself off in the process.


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